Left of Normal
by Lucky Canuck
Summary: Not wanting to give too much away but it's an examination of the events of Twilight, told from Jasper's POV and an unknown interloper who knows more than she's willing to let on. Rated M for language and mature themes to appear in future.
1. Emmett's to Blame

**First attempt at fan fiction, I've enjoyed the process of taking some ideas whirling around and committing them to paper. Can't wait to see where these characters take me. **

**I don't own any of the characters; they, and the Twilight-verse are Stephanie Meyer's brain-child. I just like to take them out to play with. **

**Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter One: Emmett's to Blame<strong>

If blame is to be laid than Emmett's at fault; it was Christmas break and we had just returned from spending the majority of it visiting relatives up in Alaska. The weekend before heading back to the monotony of life at Forks High, Emmett had become restless; in his eagerness to experience the latest copy of a PS2 game he picked up but forgot to take with him to Alaska, he had completed the entire series in 2 days flat, a new record even for him.

Wrestling with our brother Edward was a lost cause because despite his obvious physical advantage of being a dominating burly powerhouse in comparison to svelte Edward, Emmett could never be bothered to learn a new technique. The two of them would stand off, paces apart and predictable Em would rush in head first, leaving Edward to sidestep to the right and it was the pine tree being battered and not Edward's face. Most would give up after a few tries but Em was determined to beat Edward so they kept at it for a good hour. Edward won every single time.

Now, at this point, under normal circumstances, Emmett would shake off his defeat, strut over batting his eyelashes and whisper sweet naughty nothings into his wife's Rosalie's ear and soon the two of them would be racing off into the woods to commune with nature. Unfortunately earlier that day after completing the PS2 game, Emmett had wandered into the garage and decided to try his hand at mechanics by tinkering with her baby – a brand new Porche. Absorbed in the task at hand, he didn't see Rose descent into the garage from the house, to come up behind him and wallop him a good one at the back of the head.

"What the heck do you think you're playing at! This is **my car** not yours. Get your stinking hands off and don't even think about laying them on me!" she screeched at him.

"But Rosie-baby!I wanted to install these killer rims for you, as a surprise…." he pleaded, hands rubbing the back of his head.

The Ice Queen merely glared at him, headed towards the work bench to retrieve some tools, leaving Emmett no choice but to sulk back into the house.

This brings us to Friday night and Emmett desperately needing a distraction. He was roaming aimlessly from room to room throughout the house, interrupting the rest of us engaged in our own amusements: Alice seated cross-legged on the floor, Edward on the white leather couch, chessboard resting on the matching ottoman between them, both deep in thought planning their next move. A 'simple' game of chess can last days, what with Edward being able to read Alice's thoughts and she in return being able to predict his next move. Most of the game is spent with each of them with a hand poised over the pieces yet never actually touching any of them.

"Not now Emmett, we're going to finish this game even if it takes us all night." stated Alice dismissing him with a wave of her hand.

"But…...," Emmett started to reply but the death stares coming from Edward were enough to make him pause "Mever mind," he quickly said backing away from the two of them and headed towards the dining room where Esme sat at dining table pouring over paint and fabric swatches trying to decide how to redecorate the room (again). One look at the table covered in a rainbow of colours, textures and sparkly bits was enough to stop Emmett dead in his tracks and change course before she asked him which colour scheme he liked.

He paused at the door leading out to the garage, where Rosalie was working on undoing the damage caused by Emmett's ill-placed good intentions, saw that she wasn't acknowledging him and realized that perhaps she still needed some time to simmer down.

As for myself, I was upstairs in my room strumming on my guitar. At the sound of Emmett running up the stairs, I darted to the door and shut it close, hoping he'd get the hint. I really didn't want to wrestle with him, especially if it meant hours of dodging full on attacks.

Poor Carlisle ensconced in his office seated at his desk, reading the latest issue of _The New England Medical Journal _was not immune to Emmett's disruptive behaviour.

"Damnit Emmett! Go find something to do!" Carlisle hissed at him, when he looked up over the pages and caught Emmett just leaning against the door jamb watching him read.

Hands in his pockets, head down, Emmett tramped back down the stairs, crossed the living room, where Alice & Edward still hadn't made a move, opened the front door leading to the porch and seated on the top stair and stared into the night sky hoping inspiration would hit.

Just when we thought we could all settle into a pleasant Friday evening he came bounding in the house, eyes a blazing, yelling, "Guys! I've got it! The perfect idea! It'll be awesome!"

The excitement rolling off of him was enough to put away my guitar and draw me out of my room to head down the stairs. Emmett's brilliant idea was to launch ourselves across Highway 1, from one tree top to the next without being detected. He had put a lot of thought into this plan which he excitedly outlined for us:

"It's a moonless rainy night, we do move faster than any human could spot us, therefore brilliant idea because really, what were the chances we'd get caught?"

His child-like pleading, even stomping his foot, was enough to convince me to give this a go.

"Awesome Jasper!" he stated, dancing on the balls of his feet in anticipation.

Alice didn't foresee any eminent danger, except perhaps to Emmett's pride as he would be the one with butterfingers that night, agreed to come along. The little pixie kept that knowledge to herself, but the smile creeping across Edward's face gave her away. As well, sensing he was never going to get anywhere with the chess game against Alice, he too was willing to humour Emmett.

"Certainly better than wrestling, I'm in," Edward informed Emmett, rising from the couch.

Rosalie, coming in from the garage, wiping her hands on a rag, also relented, only because despite how mad she was, she just couldn't resist her cherubic faced husband, bright eyes light up in excitement, that soon the five of us headed down to Highway 1, leaving Carlisle & Esme in peace at home.

Racing away from our modern home nestled deep in the temperate rainforest of the Olympic Peninsula, to Emmett's chosen spot, with the wind rushing past me, helped to clear the diaphanous emotional cobwebs that often stuck to me. Em's restlessness, Rose's mild annoyance, Edward's frustration at not being able to win the chess game, and even Alice's chirpiness, I couldn't help but shake myself, in the vain hope of removing the faint traces of lingering emotions. I find the wind is indifferent to emotion, a balm to my weary dead heart.

True to Alice's prediction, on Emmett's first attempt a sudden gust of wind caught him off guard and instead of the graceful landing onto the topmost branch of the tree directly across the highway, he veered to the side, left hand outstretched swung around the tree like a flag flapping in the wind during hurricane season. All of us roared in laughter and had Emmett been able to he would have blushed a dozen shades of red. Even Rosalie had to admit it was hilarious to see her burly mate make such an ass out of himself.

"Serves you right Em! Karma's a bitch sometimes!" she laughed into the night.

What none of us were able to predict was that evening a lone female driver would happen by. Don't get me wrong, that in and of itself wasn't an issue. It was the highway and drivers would be passing by. That was the point to Emmett's game, to be playing chicken with unwitting drivers, returning home from holidays, weary and tired.

Normally a human is a human is a human to me. They all melt together into one emotional roller coaster, with two main themes: excited, or angry. With some variation in between but truth be told, humans are shallow creatures. They may like to think they're all enlightened and can experience every emotion on the spectrum but they're deluding themselves. They are either excited or angry. Sometimes fearful. Usually only so around our kind, but you can't fault them for that – we are predatory beasts demanding a fearful reaction.

And I prefer to keep my distance from them, not surprising given my "unconventional" upbringing and tendency to view them as prime rib and not as sentient beings who should live in blissful ignorance of our existence. "_We are to_**_ live _**_among them, not _**_hunt _**_among them." _Carlisle, patriarch of our family, has drilled into our brains ad nauseam. Ok, he drilled into **my brain** ad nauseam.

This driver, well she was different. We heard her about 20 miles to the east of our position, singing along to Meatloaf's _Bat out of Hell,_ fingers tapping along the steering wheel. Killer vocals and excellent choice of music aside, it was her emotional flavour that was what initially caught my attention, growing stronger as the distance diminished between us. She was genuinely happy. It was a deep seated – from the core – sense of happiness and it washed over me like waves lapping at the beach. How she was able to project such an emotion from such a distance, caught me off guard and I could feel it warming my deaden heart, coursing through my icy veins and a smile begging to creep across my face. Her emotional state affected me to the point that I couldn't help but project that warm giddy sensation to Emmett, Rosalie, Edward & Alice. Soon all five of us sitting in our respective tree tops were laughing lightly to ourselves, the bell-like tinkling being carried with the wind.

And as quickly as the waves of contentment were lapping at my heart, they stopped, swan-diving off the cliff into nothing. She became an emotional void, a deep dark abyss. The total absence of emotions from humans normally only triggers one thing – death. And the sudden switch from happiness to nothing with no slide in between, signalling the life force draining away, truly frightened me. Me! The God of War! Frightened by the abrupt death of a measly human. My hands and legs were twisted around the branches with such force that the tree threatened to snap under the pressure. In tangent with her emotional void we saw in crystal high-def vampire clarity her car slow down, her slumped over the wheel and veering slightly to the right and then come to a stop against a tree. Silence.

The wind whipped past me and although it carried the driver's perfume of lilacs and sunshine, there was no trace of fresh blood in the air, a relief for me the struggling vegetarian. But it did cause all of us a moment to pause as none of us, in our combined 450 odd years of witnessing and sometimes, albeit more often than not due to Emmett's tomfoolery, causing, car crashes, we have never seen such a crash were blood was not spilt. This wasn't normal. Had I been Peter Parker, my spidey sense would be tingling. Especially given that ever so faintly her heat was still ticking. This driver was not dead.

Five minutes passed before any of us moved. It was Rosalie, sitting in the tree closest to the car, who first leapt to the ground and approached the car, checking under the hood to see what was amiss. Figures Rosalie would care more for the BMW than the poor human.

Muttering to herself, "Strange, this engine is in top form, as if it was just driven off the lot. I don't see any frayed wires, loose connections. There's no reason for it to have just stalled like that. Aside from the headlight breaking on contact with the tree, this car is fine. Even the airbag failed to deploy."

Not bothering to care about dirtying her clothes, she rolled under the car to check out the undercarriage, "Yeah breaks look fine, no leaks, everything is as it should. Whoever she is, she's got one damn good mechanic."

Edward, descending cautiously from his tree top, was the one who thought to look in on the woman. He approached from the driver's side and opened the door. My radar was picking up a confused vibe from him.

He did look decidedly perplex, as he said, "Odd, one moment her thoughts were scattered with remembering the lyrics, wanting to check out her new place, and wondering what the students would be like at Forks High and in mid sentence, they stopped. There was nothing."

The touch of his cool fingers, against her neck checking for a pulse must have been what caused her to stir, as slowly her heart beat quickened, her eyelids fluttered, her right hand raised to her rosy cheek and she began to rub her face and suppress a yawn simultaneously. Only Edward would put on a show of acting human in front of an obviously unconscious human.

"_Calice!_ It's Saturday and I want to sleep in. Buggar off," she mumbled and tried to bat away at Edward`s hand. She shifted in her seat, crossed her slim ankles, and adjusted her head against the steering wheel, her dirty blonde shoulder length hair fanning around her. The emotional void that was moments ago there was replaced with her deep seated happiness, tinged with tiredness. I found myself releasing a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

Edward's eyes widen, the disbelief tsunamied off of him. Stuttering, "I….I …. don't hear anything! Nothing!"

"Really Edward, clean your ears, she told you to buggar off. Even I heard that from up here." Emmett jumping down from the treetop and walking over to Edward's side, declared.

"_Taise-toi!_ leave me alone, I wanna sleep in." our mystery driver said again, still bating at Edward's long since retreated hand, pressing her head harder against the wheel.

went the horn inadvertently as she tried to snuggle against it.

The noise brought me out of my reverie, as did the gust of wind carrying with it the scent of Carlisle and Esme, trailing after them a sense of concern and worry, with an undertone of annoyance. Still perched in my tree top, I saw Alice standing at the side of the road, talking on her cell phone. Ahh that explains Carlisle's rapid appearance, thoughtful Alice calling in the reserves.

"Shit! I'm awake! I'm awake!" the driver yelled out loud, jerking away from the steering wheel, arms flailing around.

Her abrupt shift from happiness to shock and confusion was starting to give me whiplash. She blinked quickly several times and looked around_._"What the?"

My curiosity was getting the better of me and I scaled down the tree and walked towards the car, keeping myself well out of reach of the car lights, behind and to the left of Carlisle.

"It's alright dear. It appears that you've had a car accident. I'm a doctor. Everything is going to be ok." Carlisle calmly told her, replacing the increasingly agitated Edward, at the driver's door.

"It doesn't make sense. There's nothing there. But she's awake. I don't get it."muttered Edward under his breath to no one in particular, as he paced along the side of the road.

"What's your name sweetheart? Do you mind if I take a quick look at you?" Carlisle implored the young woman, kneeling in front of her, opening his black medical bag to remove his stethoscope and flashlight.

"Anya_." _She stated slowly, "Anya Simms." shifting to the left in her seat, right arm outstretched to Carlisle, waiting for him to take her proffered dainty hand.

It was only at this moment that she raised her head, that I was able to get a good look at her face over Carlisle's shoulder. She was pale, freckles scattered over the ridge of her nose, blue wire rim glasses framing her deep green eyes. She had a youthful look about her, mid-twenties at the oldest. Her left hand was working its way across her high cheek bones towards her eyes to wipe the sleep from them.

"Yeah sure, a quick look", she repeated Carlisle's words and he began to check her pulse at her wrist and visually look for any lacerations on her face. "What happened… " she trailed off, blinking at the sudden illumination of the flashlight in the cramp space, jerking her head back, causing her to looked Carlisle square in the face.

I sucked in a breath and took a step back into the shadows. That's it…pupils dilate, the fear is going to start and the adrenaline will be pumping into high gear forcing her body to flee. But no, this human, this Anya Simms went from shock, settled into confusion with…what's this? Equal doses of merriment? What? What's humorous about this situation? I inadvertently widen my eyes and Edward shot me a look of pure disbelief that read, _"Come again? Did I hear that correctly? She's amused?"_

Carlisle, noticing her staring him eye to eye, and smiling no less, smoothly and calmly told her, "Well Ms. Simms, it appears you lost control and veered off the road. You're lucky that we happened to be driving along a ways back behind you. Does that sound about right?"

As she took a moment to process this information turning her face down and away from Carlisle, he quickly whispered, "Children, I think it's best of you head home. Esme & I will see to this."

"You sure Carlisle…?" Alice whispered back.

"Yes Alice, everything will be alright." Waving his hand, Alice, Edward, Emmett & Rosalie disappeared into the trees heading for home.

Ignoring Carlisle's request that we head back, I lingered in the shadows of the trees, watching my parents interact with the enigma that is Anya. Her emotional state was one of happiness, with an undercurrent of mild amusement. I could even see her biting her bottom lip in an attempt to mask a giggle trying to escape.

Turning back towards Carlisle,"Yeah I guess you're right Dr….?"

"Cullen, Dr. Cullen. I work in Emerge at the local hospital."Quickly adding, "And I sit on the local school board, you're the new school librarian, we've been expecting you I thought your name sounded familiar." On that note, Carlisle finished his quick initial check of Anya.

"New librarian, yes of course." Anya weakly repeated, absently running her right hand through her hair. "I must have fallen asleep at the wheel,"laughing lightly she continued on, "Silly me thinking I could manage the drive from Seattle at night. I should have waited until morning."

"There appears to be no cuts, bruises or broken ribs. You're very lucky Ms. Simms." He replaced his stethoscope and flashlight into his bag and snapped it with a flourish.

"Please, call me Anya." she interrupted him.

"Well Anya," Carlisle started again, "You're quite lucky, falling asleep at the wheel can often have disastrous results. However just to be on the safe side how about Esme, my wife, drive you home, and I'll follow behind in the other car? Esme?"

"Yes dear, not a problem." Piped up Esme, walking towards the car.

"Umm sure, yeah, that's probably a good idea,"she agreed, beginning to get out of the car, thus allowing Esme to slide into the driver's seat.

Offering his left arm,"You're still a bit shaken up, allow me to walk you around to other side?"Carlisle suggested.

"Thanks." Anya replied, resting her hand on Carlisle's arm.

"Anya, where are we heading?" Esme inquired once Anya was settled into the seat adjusting her belt.

A shot of panic rose in Anya, gulping, "Ummmm…" then her eyes focused on the dashboard, "The GPS! I programmed the address into the GPS, just listen to Tom-Tom and he'll get you there. He hasn't gotten me lost yet." she replied.

Esme laughing, "What would we do without technology? Lead the way Tom-Tom!" and with that she manoeuvred the car onto the road and headed towards town.

Carlisle had long since darted back home, most likely to retrieve the car they were supposedly driving and rendezvousing with the ladies in town. Running my hands through my hair and giving myself a mental shake, I jogged after the car curious to see where this was going to lead.


	2. Reality Check

**Author's note: my apologies for the delay, I wanted to get this out last weekend but life got in the way. Enjoy!**

**Reminder: Stephanie Meyer's owns Twilight & it's characters, I just like to play with them.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Two: Reality Check<strong>

Weak sunlight streaming through the windows behind me is what woke me from my deep sleep. I automatically stretched out my arms and uncurled my legs, unfolding myself from my foetal position. From my awkward sleeping position I discovered I had quite the kink in my neck. With my right hand I lightly tapped in front of me, in a vain attempt to find my glasses, while raising my left hand to rub out the kink. Within a few moments I located my blue framed glasses, and put them on, bringing my world into focus.

"_Hang__ on__ a __second!__This__ isn__'__t __VIA __first __class,__" _I thought, taking in the fact I was sitting on a brown sectional couch in a room filled with moving boxes. To my right was a small stone fireplace, and placed in front it were two suitcases, and a book bag that all looked vaguely familiar. Swinging my legs off of the couch, my feet touching the hardwood floor, I got up to explore just exactly where I was. To my left, was a small entry way with a built-in bench nestled underneath a stained glass window. Behind the sectional were three larger windows looking out onto a nondescript quiet residential street. I walked around the couch towards these windows overlooking what appeared to be a deep seated wooden porch with stone pillars supporting the roof. Beyond the porch, dawn was struggling to break through the low hanging cloud cover.

As I started to turn my back to the outside to explore some more of my surroundings, I noticed out of the corner of my eye a red car in the drive way with a broken headlight. _Get __out!__That__ really __happened?_ Instinctively I pinched myself on the arm, _ouch! __Ok__ I__'__m__ awake,__ not __dreaming_.

The last thing I recalled doing yesterday was after an 8 hour delay due to an early January snowstorm belting most of Ontario & Quebec, was finally boarding Train 54 at Union Station, Toronto, for the 5 hour trip back to Montréal. Classes resumed in a few days time and I wanted to unpack and mentally prepare myself for the next stage of my PhD dissertation.

Comfortably settled in my first class seat, I was beginning to doze off while re-reading _Twilight._I only ever read it the first time under duress as it was our September pick for Book Club. Jen's daughters were clamouring to read it and she wanted to see what all the fuss was about. And what better way than to drag all eight of us club members into it. I'll admit that the premise intrigued me and I could understand why girls all over were fawning over the book: star crossed teenage lovers. What's not to love, right? Compared to what was currently out there on the market there was little foul language, and best of all for parents: **no**** underage ****sex**. Or drugs or alcohol either come to think of it. Since I had found a trade paperback I found it portable and often carted it around in my book bag.

_Hey __I __wonder__…__.._I crawled across the couch towards the bag at the other end and zipped it open, rummaging around until my fingers grasped onto the edges of a book…._hmmmm__ what__'__s __this?_ Pulling it out I discovered that it was not _Twilight_ but a battered copy of a _Harlequin __Romance._

_Really, Harlequin? Who is this person?_

The events of what I thought were a merely a dream flooded back to me, as I flopped back into the sofa. There really was a car accident. I really was examined by – _snort__ — _Dr Cullen, and yes, he really does have honey coloured eyes.

It was the eyes that tipped me off. I always had trouble picturing the pale faced blond doctor with honey eyes. It seemed unnatural to me as undoubtedly was the point to convey to the reader his supernatural nature, and yet as he knelt beside me in the dark wet night, examining me for any lacerations, I was taken aback by his eyes. They really are honey coloured, almost liquid gold with flecks of something else I couldn't quite name, that just draw you in. I had to stop myself from laughing out loud.

Whether the good doctor noticed anything was amiss or not, he didn't let my staring him square in the eye faze him. He merely informed me that he happened to be driving along behind me (_yeah__right!)_ and 'witnessed' the whole accident: it appeared that I fell asleep at the wheel, veered off the road and into a tree.

Any sane person, who is at this point confronted by a fictional supernatural hero, would indeed be laughing aloud at the absurdness. I on the other hand, did not, and truth be told, I'm not overly sure why I did it, but I went along with his observation, as sure, that seems plausible. I would indeed be in Washington State driving late at night, and sure why not, it could happen, I would fall asleep at the wheel.

Twirling my hair with my right hand, I pondered for a second the possibility that this is indeed a dream. _Ouch!_ _Ouch!_ _Ouch!_ Still awake, despite repeatedly pinching my left arm. Last night I certainly thought I was dreaming, a type of lucid dreaming brought on by what I had just finished reading. I remembered in time to not call him Carlisle, though come to think of it, he did happen to know who I was – my subconscious filling in the gaps? – and I was beginning to think as to why exactly the good doctor would appear to me in my dream, after all he isn't exactly a lead character in _Twilight_ except to put Bella to rights after all her accidents and mishaps.

_And__ a __librarian? __Really? __That__'__s__ the__ best __my__ subconscious __could __do?_ Stretching some more on the couch, I began to think back to when I last had a shower, or changed my clothes. _Hmm__ I __left __Frieda__'__s __condo__ early __Friday __morning__ the __same __time__ she __left __for __work __at __City __Hall, __spent__ 8__ hours __waiting__ at __Union __Station.__Got __on __the __train__…__..24 __hours __ago?_ Looking down at myself I was in dark blue jeans and a nondescript back long-sleeved shirt. Though not covered in obvious dirt they did have a distinctly disheveled look and faint smell of b.o. to them. As well, I obviously slept in them, it would be nice to shower and change into something more comfortable. Glancing back at the book bag on the floor, I leaned over and heaved it onto the couch. Trashy romance novels aside, if this Anya Simms is anything like me, than there should be a change of clothes and toiletries in here.

_Aha!__Success!_ Rummaging into the bag I began to pull out its contents: a folded pair of plaid pyjama bottoms, a grey t-shirt, a Michigan State sweatshirt, a change of underwear, a pair of black socks, a small makeup bag, a coiled ring note book, 2 pens, one blue, one black. In the small outside pocket I found a wallet, flipping it open was a Michigan State driver's license with my name and face on it. _Well__ at __least __this __is __me: __Anya __Marie__ Simms. __Same __date __of __birth.__Same __weight,__ same __height,__heck__ even __the __same __eye __colour. __A__ mug __shot __is __a__ mug __shot__ despite __what __side __of __the__ border__ you__'__re __on._ There was also a small wad of green bills, one bank card and a VISA credit card.

Scratching my head I tried to wrap my brain around the fact I have a Michigan State licence when last time I checked I was born & raised in Montréal, Canada. _Wait__…__how__ did__ that __story__ go?_ I mused. _Grandpa __Simms __worked __in __Detroit __at __a __bank __and __the __only __reason __he __headed __back __to __Ontario __was __because __his __father __had __fallen__ sick __and __couldn__'__t __run __the __farm__ anymore. __If__ that __never __happened, __than __Grandpa __would__ have __stayed __in__ Detroit__…_

Swallowing hard it dawned on me that I not only, until recently, **lived** in Michigan, I more than likely,**am** American. Not Canadian. Grabbing the note book and a pen, I flipped it opened to two blank pages, writing across the left sheet: THINGS TO DO and across the right sheet: THINGS THAT ARE DIFFERENT. Under that heading I wrote, 'nationality = American'. Shaking my head, and clutching the change of clothes and toiletries bag I headed towards the stairs in search of the washroom. Not only did I need a shower to shake off the cobwebs and wrap my brain around the fact I was American, but I also needed to empty my bladder; I had no idea when I last went but I desperately needed to go.

At the top of the landing, I found myself in a small hallway with 3 doors running off it. Immediately in front of me was a bedroom, its door labelled "Guest Room", and inside against the far wall under the window, were a neat row of boxes labelled "linens", "towels", "bathroom cleaning supplies" and "Bathroom accessories". Walking to the one labelled 'towels' I removed the packing tape and opened the lid. Inside were neat stacks of towels, all folded into squares, face cloths & hand towels on top, bathmats directly beneath and further down larger towels. I grabbed a facecloth, bathmat and two large towels, and tucked those under my left arm, as my right hand was still holding my change of clothes and toiletries bag.

Back out into the hall I went to the door to the left of the spare room, as it was labelled "Bathroom", though the large claw foot tub made the note a bit redundant. It was evident that this room had been recently renovated and probably enlarged, as aside from the white tub under a large frosted window, there was in the far left hand corner a walk in shower stall with a rain shower head as well as a regular shower head in one wall. On the far right wall was an antique chest of drawers converted into a bathroom vanity. Beside the vanity was the toilet and I'm relieved to say, a fresh roll of toilet paper on the roller.

Nature's call answered, I walked over to the shower stall and turned the water on. While waiting for the water to heat up, I opened the makeup bag and found what I was looking for: hotel sized shampoo and conditioner bottles and a small box of _Dove_ soap. Settling myself into the shower I mentally examined my options:

A) I could pretend that I am indeed still dreaming and eventually I'll wake up. Massaging the shampoo into my hair I found this farfetched. This is too life-like to be a dream. I wouldn't even know how to describe the feel of a rain head shower.

B) There was indeed an 'accident' last night but it wasn't a car accident. There was a train accident and I'm actually in hospital somewhere deep in a coma. This is limbo I thought while rinsing the shampoo out. Plausible. If I'm in a coma and this is my subconscious creating a magical world for me, not too hard to believe it would take the residual threads of what I was most recently reading to create my limbo. Good thing I wasn't reading a crime novel or else I'd have to worry about gangsters after me and not just honey-eyed doctors.

C) Not a dream nor is it limbo. It's an alternate world - ahh a parallel universe – I thought while massaging the conditioner into my hair._What __was__ it__ that __Pierre, __my __ex __who __was __addicted __to__ sci-fi_ _would __prattle __on __about?__ – _something about string theory and how the universe is divided into an infinite number of worlds that run side by side. How in some worlds it was small subtle differences. Like being American instead of Canadian. Or there could possibly be bigger differences, such as fictional honey eyed vampires are not so fictional after all.

Ok…so I'm in a parallel universe. The question remains: how did I get here and more importantly, how do I get out?


End file.
